


Letters and Photographs

by IckleRonnikens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IckleRonnikens/pseuds/IckleRonnikens
Summary: Childhood best friends Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are separated when one of them moves away. They promise to write, but never do, and when they meet again in five years, they are strangers. As they attempt to rekindle their friendship, it is through their letters and photographs that their relationship flowers into something more. Muggle Harmony AU. Influenced by Life is Strange.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 62
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Writing Fest - Jily Meets Harmony Challenge





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The Jily Meets Harmony Challenge
> 
> Must include:  
> 1\. James/Lily and Harry/Hermione strictly.  
> 2\. James and Lily must be alive. Either by surviving Halloween, coming back to life, or their canon deaths never happening/being avoided. (Can include either Time Travel or a Canon Divergence event)  
> 3\. Sirius should also live and be free/exonerated.  
> 4\. Lily must at some point braid Hermione's hair.  
> 5\. James and Harry must at some point fly together  
> 6\. Harry cannot have a Boy Who Lived (Or Wrong Boy Who Lived) sibling.  
> 7\. No Jily bashing  
> 8\. Include the requirements and description of the challenge in an Author's Note. 
> 
> Optional:  
> 1\. Line from James: "Are you sure you don't fancy Hermione?"  
> 2\. Line from Lily: "You know, Harry is lucky to have you."  
> 3\. Line from Sirius: "I'm trying to decide which pair of you lovebirds is more [__]."  
> 4\. Preferably avoids common tropes (overdone bashing, love potions etc)

##  Prologue 

_August 2014 - Godric Hollow, England_

‘Say cheese or something,’ said Hermione Granger, putting her head next to her best friend, lifting the old-fashioned device in her hand and pointing it at the two of them.

‘Cheese or something,’ Harry Potter said quietly, trying his best to smile.

The polaroid camera went off with a flash and immediately spat out a piece of plastic that Hermione automatically took and began to fan.

‘Perfect,’ she said happily, carefully blowing on it. ‘I’ll make you a copy too. That way we can both remember this moment and always be reminded that we are best friends forever, no matter what happens and no matter where we go—’

‘But why?’ Harry asked miserably. ‘Why do you have to go?’

‘Harry,’ Hermione said slowly with a sigh, not wanting to look at him, ‘please don’t make me cry again—’

‘Isn’t there something we can do? To convince your parents to stay?’

Hermione looked down at her camera and stared. She’d already tried. Countless times. But her parents had dug their heels in every time, and despite the fact they wouldn’t elaborate, they had told her they were moving away due to their work. She was confused about it, they were dentists, surely there was enough teeth to go around in Godric’s Hollow. For a moment she paused, took a deep breath and then looked back up at him.

‘Promise me you’ll write,’ she said hopefully, reaching for his forearm.

‘Write?’

‘Promise me, Harry,’ Hermione said firmly, narrowing her eyes at him. ‘Promise you’ll write me all the time and I’ll promise you. I want to know everything that’s happening, everything about your new school, everything new you learn… and everything about your new best friend—’

‘I won’t,’ Harry said defensively, ‘I don’t want a new best friend—’

‘Please, Harry, promise.’

Harry could barely look at her. He was looking down at her hand touching his arm. He shifted his other hand over, and put it on hers, before finding the courage to look up and stare at her. She had her eyebrows raised and was pleading him to answer with her eyes. Harry sighed and finally answered.

‘I promise.’

The two thirteen-year-old best friends hugged for a very long time, before they finally parted ways, and each turned into their respective houses in Godric’s Hollow, which just happened to be next to one another.

The following day, that was it. Harry watched on helplessly with his parents as Hermione and her parents packed up the car with all their possessions, gave the Potter’s one final tearful farewell and then hit the road. From there it was a long drive to London, where they would get onto the A1 motorway and make the even longer journey to France.

And just like that, Hermione Granger was out of his life.


	2. Letters to Hermione

##  Chapter One 

##  Letters to Hermione 

5th October 2015

Hermione,

Is there anything more tragic than the internet being down? I don’t think there is.

It happened earlier this evening when I was trying to send you an email. I made the mistake of telling mum about it and she put a pen and paper down in front of me and told me I should write to you instead. Apparently, that shows more effort.

I don’t know, it seemed a bit _too_ proper, but mum is old-fashioned like that. I’m mainly writing this for something to do now until the internet comes back. It has been ages since I’ve written to you in some form, so I guess, this is better than nothing.

The strange thing is, I’m unsure what to write. It’s been over a year now since you moved away and six months since I got your last letter. Since then, I haven’t heard from you at all, despite my desperate attempts at calling and texting you and spamming your email. Not that I’m upset about it or anything, I’m sure you’re incredibly busy, adjusting to your new French lifestyle, I just thought maybe, when we made that promise…

Did you not mean it? I feel so stupid writing this. I don’t think there’s any way I’ll ever send it.

Harry, _The Disconnected_

~ * ~

20th November 2015

Hermione,

I have a journal to write in now, or is this technically a diary? I suppose if it was, I’d be writing _Dear Diary_ or something, but I’m not going to do that.

I’ve still not sent the last hand-written letter I wrote almost a month ago now, and considering how our communications are going, I probably never will. At least in this little book I can write my thoughts to you as much as I want without ever worrying what you might think or what you might say if you were able to write back.

Perhaps, one day distantly in the future, if you ever venture back to your birthplace and apologise profusely for having completely forgotten about me and our agreement, we can forget and forgive and maybe I’ll show you this for a laugh.

Actually, I’m quite mortified at that thought, so maybe not.

Instead, I’ll just pretend that everything I write about can be seen by you and you’re cool about it and you agree with everything that I say. That way, the image of my former best friend can live forever, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re still in my life.

Kind of.

Harry, _The Loner_

~ * ~

6th December 2015

Hermione,

I’m still trying to decide if this is my diary or my journal. I guess if it was the former, I’d be writing in it almost daily, and I would not be addressing my former best friend specifically by name. Anyway, I really don’t see myself writing more often than I have to, but tonight I felt like I needed to write, purely out of anger.

Mum and dad suggested we go on a holiday for Christmas this year and at first, I was like, yeah, that’s cool, I guess. But then mum starts talking about going to visit our relatives in Surrey. Yes, _those relatives,_ the insufferable, nit-picking, turn-their-nose-up-at-you relatives, who once spent an entire evening criticising my glasses. I, your suffering former best friend, is being asked to spend an entire week at the Dursley’s!

 _The Dursley’s_! The snobs who I learned tell people in their neighbourhood that I am mentally unstable.

Anyway, I politely suggested to mum that perhaps it would be best if we did something else. As you might imagine, it didn’t go so well, and now I’m writing angrily because of it. But really, there’s no way dad is happy about it either, they look down on him as much as they do me, even though he spends those dinners doing nothing but telling jokes to silence.

I get that mum wants to see her sister at Christmas, but honestly, we could do so much better than their company. But she didn’t want to hear it. Like _I’m_ the problem.

I’m not going to let Dudley punch me this year.

Harry, _The Problem_

~ * ~

4th January 2016

Hermione,

We have more in common recently than you might think, you know. In the past year, you’ve pretty much stopped talking to me and I’ve pretty much stopped going to school. Perhaps not as drastically, I’ll admit, but high school is really kicking my arse, sometimes literally, and I’m not sure what to do about it. If you were still here, I bet you’d come up with something clever to say and put me back on track.

But you’re not.

I was having trouble some days coming up with excuses not to go to school, so, eventually, I just didn’t. I stopped trying to explain myself when I don’t shown up.

And, brilliantly, it all seems fine.

No one has really said anything, which was really quite bizarre, and it’s made me feel like I’m this invincible person all of a sudden. Maybe they look at me as being _the boy who lost his best-friend_. None of the teachers know what they should do with me, and so as a result, are all relieved when I don’t attend class.

Honestly, I kind of wish I’d known about this sooner. High school has been nothing but a waste of time so far.

PS – I don’t know why I’m sharing this, but you popped into my head the last time I rubbed one, and I’m trying to make sense of it. I mean, at first, I was thinking about the hot waitress at the café we would frequent together, you remember the one who always changed the colour of her hair? But then you just totally stole the show. Probably nothing there, right? Think I just had strawberry milkshakes on the brain.

Harry, _The Boy Who Loves Strawberry Milkshakes_

~ * ~

5th February 2016

Hermione,

I thought about you again last night. I felt like I needed to write you.

How was your night? Was it good? Did you get up to anything interesting? I bet you didn’t. What do people even do in France for fun? Eat snails?

Meanwhile, I attended the first Hollowfest without you since you left, and I wasn’t even chaperoned by my parents.

 _The Ghastly Brothers_ were the absolute highlight of the show! Who knew cool bands like that even bothered with musical festivals in a scrap heap like Godric Hollow? Everyone who is anyone poured into those fields last night to watch. Even Sirius was there. He’s my godfather. I’m sure I told you about him. He was wrongfully prisoned twelve years ago, but he’s been exonerated, and done nothing but fun stuff like last night since he got out.

It might be the best night I’ve had since you left. They played for so much longer than they were meant to, Sirius managed to sneak me a couple of pints, and we rocked the night away. Even the most popular girl at school danced beside me at one point and then she talked to me. ME!

So, anyway, how was your night?

Harry, _The Cool Guy_

~ * ~

7th March 2016

Hermione,

I feel like a bit of an arse. I thought the complications between me, and my parents couldn’t get any worse. Well, let’s just say, they don’t seem to be getting any better. I’m constantly using you as my excuse, but let’s face it, you’ve been gone long enough now that you could no longer be the cause of my problems.

But I don’t know if I can pretend to be nice about anything when all I can think about is all the horrible things that have happened since you left.

I think my recent mood was inflated by the arrival of new neighbours moving into your old house. Aside from the fact they aren’t you, they suck. They keep coming over with pot roasts, and mum keeps inviting them in to be nice, I can’t help but think they have this hidden agenda—

I should stop that thought short.

PS Mum found out that I’ve been wagging school. Which sucks, because it was just easier to lie to her about it, and I felt better that way. Does that make me a bad person?

On second thought, don’t answer that.

Harry, _The Wagger_

~ * ~

7th April 2016

Hermione,

Had a dream about you again. A clean one, not a dirty one, I promise. The one where you were still here, living next door, hugging me each morning, holding my hand when we crossed the street, and laughing when I do something stupid.

It keeps getting harder and harder after each of these dreams, when I wake up and realise you’re not here anymore and that I do in fact miss you.

I’m not sure if I want that feeling to ever go away or not.

Harry, _The Dreamer_

~ * ~

6th May 2016

Hermione,

Have I ever mentioned Draco Malfoy, aka The Spoilt Brat, to you in my ramblings?

He and his family moved here shortly before you left. The Malfoy’s own a lot of the schools in the area, including the one I go to in Godric’s Hollow, which honestly makes me feel ill when I think about it. Apparently, the rumour is, Draco got into a fight and lost against a star football player at a posh boarding school in London and got expelled.

So, naturally, the rest of us are punished with him being enrolled at our school, a place where it’s almost impossible for him to put a foot wrong and he can do what he wants. Not that I care what he does that doesn’t involve me. I’m just going to try and avoid him as much as possible, you know, on the rare occasions I am actually forced to venture into school.

I know I ought to be concerned about how little I care about school these days. But that would mean caring, right?

Harry, _The Unspoiled_

~ * ~

10th June 2016

Hermione,

I bet I know what you’re dying to ask me: _When are you going to talk about the girl at Hollowfest?_

Okay, fine, you got me, I was hoping to wait a little longer to tell you about her, but here goes nothing.

Her name is Cho Chang. You never met her. She moved here after you left, but almost immediately, became the most popular girl in school. And for whatever reason, quite unbeknownst to me, she’s decided recently that I’m worth hanging out with.

I know, I don’t get it either. But this morning, in art class, she came and sat down next to me completely at random and started asking me to explain to her Romanticism. As if she didn’t already understand it. I’m not daft. I’m also not complaining. For the first time in ages, I actually want to go to school, and sit with someone.

Cho also started sitting with me at lunch in the cafeteria, which if you understood how our school works, is a big deal. I must admit, it felt almost like a date, and if it was, it’s the quickest I’ve gone from meeting someone to having a date with them. But that’s Cho Chang for you, she’s rather easy going, nothing really phases her, and she just puts everything out there.

Like suggesting we wag school for the rest of the afternoon and jump on a moving train.

It was so random and so awesome that I just went with it.

Harry, _The Train Hobo_

~ * ~

31st July 2016

Hermione,

I know we played a lot of games when we were younger, but I can’t remember if we ever played _Never Have I Ever_? Probably not, I don’t remember it, and it’s quite an adult sort of game if I’m being honest. If we ever see each other again, maybe I’ll talk you into playing it with me, because I played it with Cho today, and learned a lot.

It was my birthday today, I told my parents I didn’t want anything, because I don’t feel fifteen. As soon as Cho found out what day it was, she insisted we wagged and hitched another ride into the countryside on a moving train again. Then, she pulled out a bottle of liquor from her bag and two glasses and began to explain the concept of the game.

I learned so much about her. More than I’d prefer to share with you, let’s just say that. I was surprised to learn she’d never been to London! We laughed that maybe one day we could go there together.

Sitting on that train was a pretty cool birthday present as far as I was concerned. We sat there, watching the world fly by, without a care in the world. When we eventually jumped ship, we ended up being in some small town north of Godric’s Hollow. We had fish and chips for lunch, chilled in the nearby park for the afternoon and then took a bus home.

What a memorable day! For the first time, in a long time, I was able to put my thoughts of you at the back of my mind and just enjoy myself!

Harry, _The Birthday Boy_

~ * ~

18th August 2016

Hermione,

Lately I found myself participating in study sessions with Cho, and in her theatre class, they are practicing for a Shakespeare play later in the term. I tried writing you a quick poem but quickly came to realise that rhyming is damn hard, and besides, what even rhymes with Hermione? Shiny? Tiny? Slimy?

Whatever.

It’s not like you’re going to read this, right?

Harry, _The Untalented_

~ * ~

19th September 2016

Hermione,

I— don’t even know what happened.

If you bet on “Harry bombs out and goes back to being a loner with no friends again” then well done you, because that is exactly what has happened. Cho and I have been inseparable lately, and then today, suddenly, we’re not friends anymore. I don’t know why, but she didn’t sit with me in class, and then when I greeted her, she acted very weird and turned her back on me.

I tried to fix things, but I think I just made it worse.

I wish I knew how I ruined our friendship. These past few months have been some of the best and brightest since you left. I seem to be quite the expert at destroying good things, as you well know.

Perhaps if we ever talk again, you could tell me what it is I do that ruins friendships?

PS Happy Birthday, Hermione. For some reason, I kept the date of your birth as a reminder on my calendar, as if it’s something still important to me. Perhaps next year, I won’t bother.

Harry, _The Friend Destroyer_

~ * ~

8th October 2016

Hermione,

When did you decide that you were done with your old life? At what point did you know it was time to quit bothering with me? How did you choose to move on?

I only ask this of you because it seems Cho has effectively decided she’s done with me too.

I have come to my own conclusion: Godric Hollow sucks without you in it, so I have decided I want to leave this dump and start again elsewhere. Unfortunately, I made the stupid mistake of telling my parents this, and they have insisted I finish my education before going anywhere. It sucks, I know, but deep down my gut tells me they’re right, and that’s why my instincts kicked in and told them.

But I have decided, instead of ghosting it like someone I know, I plan on inflicting as much destruction in this place as possible before I leave.

Harry, _The Destruction King_

~ * ~

6th November 2016

Hermione,

I got suspended indefinitely from school today.

I’d rather not discuss the details. Let’s just say that the combination of my poor attendance record and the attempt at creating “destruction” at school has seen my downfall. I should be more upset about the whole situation but I’m not. It’s just another peg down the ladder towards the inevitable of me being thrown out of school and consequently me leaving this place.

At least you got out when you did.

Harry, _The Suspended_

~ * ~

14th December 2016

Hermione,

Have you ever been to therapy?

I’ve been going for a month now. It’s been one of the preconditions of my suspension at school, and if I’m being honest, it’s actually okay. There’s been none of that writing down your feelings crap, or hugging and crying nonsense, just a straightforward conversation about what is happening in my life.

I talked about you leaving, about my parents, about Cho Chang (obviously I left some details out) and about being suspended. The therapist wanted me to talk more about you, but I’m not doing that, I don’t want to, and I don’t need to.

Harry, _The Medically Unstable_

~ * ~

1st January 2017

Hermione,

Happy New Year!

Hope you brought in the new year better than I did.

I spent it in Sirius’ caravan listening to him play and sing “Wonderwall” on my guitar whilst slightly drunk. It’s the only song he knows how to play, so of course, that’s all he played. Sure, it could have been worse, but I enjoy his company, and at least I don’t have to talk about my _problems_ when I’m with him.

I was also glad that I cut myself off social media for the night because I found out the next day that Cho Chang had thrown a party, and most of the school had been there. Except yours truly of course.

Perhaps it’s for the best, I don’t even think I would have gone, even if I was invited.

Harry, _The Outsider_

~ * ~

14th February 2017

Hermione,

Valentine’s Day is possibly the worse day of the year.

It’s such a scam. I swear, sometimes I think something like magic exists, and the government pollutes the water supply with a love potion, to make people spend silly amounts of money on things like flowers, chocolates and cards, a big percentage of which gets back to the government.

Perhaps I’ve been listening to Sirius for too long, who likes the idea of the occasional conspiracy theory, or perhaps I’m just a little jealous that I overheard Cho Chang telling friends that she had a date with one of the footballers from school tonight.

I’m not resentful, I should be happy that she’s happy, I’m just still confused why we parted ways. It’s sort of the same between you and me. I wish I could be talking to you for real right now, but at the same time, I have this anger for you inside me, that you suddenly decided to stop speaking to me.

And now I’m upset again.

Valentine’s Day is the worse.

PS I miss the days when we used to make fun of such a holiday and then promised that if we couldn’t get our own Valentine’s, we would be each other’s.

Harry, _The Anti-Valentine_

~ * ~

18th March 2017

Hermione,

I was having a bad day at school today. Forgot to do my homework, a teacher yelled at me for being late, some stuck up bullies mocked my glasses… you know the drill. Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any more dramatic—

Pardon the pun, but I completely forgot that the theatre students were putting on a play for the rest of the school, and we were being made to go and watch it! Talk about torture. As we were marched to the schools theatre, I almost wanted to double back and get out of it, but there was never the right moment.

So, I had to sit there, watching Cho Chang dressed up in that stunning costume, acting out Shakespeare in front of the entire school like it was nothing. A part of me wanted her to forget a line, or fall over stupidly, but she was too perfect for that.

The same part of me didn’t want to clap at the end, but another part, one that I think has always been heavily influenced by you, did so politely along with everyone else. And when Cho and her classmates posed for photographs at the end, I couldn’t help but visualise you as the one behind the camera.

You would never have used one so expensive.

Harry, _The Shakespeare Critic_

~ * ~

27th April 2017

Hermione,

I had my first exam for the year. I managed to survive; in case you were worried about me (you totally weren’t). It wasn’t easy. I had to remember quite a lot of stuff, much of it I never did _in_ class, of course, because of my wagging. But I think I did my best in the time required.

In fact, I believe I killed it once I got past the worry of potentially knowing nothing at all.

I suppose taking exams is really about forgetting the rest of the world exists and being completely in the moment. When I’m not thinking about the complications in my life, somehow that becomes incredibly easy.

I probably fabricated a few more answers than I should have, but that’s from taking a leaf out of Sirius’ book, and just winging it!

I have to try and study for the rest of my exams. Hopefully, I don’t have a breakdown again.

Harry, _The Exam King_

~ * ~

7th May 2017

Hermione,

Turns out a lot can change in the space of a fortnight.

Last time I wrote, I was hopeful, tonight, I want to leave Godric Hollow for good. Because bugger this place and everything in it. I’d rather not talk about what happened, I just want to jump on a train and head for the hills.

Destination: unknown.

As long as it’s far away from here, away from school, away from pending exams, away from responsibility. As soon as mum and dad are asleep, I’m thinking, I’ll just jump out the window, head for the tracks and be gone. Like that.

Wish me luck.

Harry, _The Wind_

PS Dad caught me sneaking out. I didn’t get in trouble but now he’s keeping a closer eye on me. Damn, you didn’t wish me luck, did you?

~ * ~

11th June 2017

Hermione,

I used to think the strangest thing about me was my hair. How it gets so out of hand so fast, and that no matter how short I cut it, it almost seemed to grow back overnight, like some sort of unknown magical force.

But lately, I feel like my life has reached a stranger level and is turning somewhat into a 90s sitcom. Everything I do is being watched and scrutinised by my parents like a hawk, which I get, I know they love me and all that stuff and are looking out for me, but sometimes I just want my own space, you know?

I keep getting messages from my old therapist, who wants me to go in for a session and a heart-to-heart talk. But I’m fine, really, and just want to concentrate on something I can control: my exams.

There’s just too much drama for my liking.

Harry, _The 90s Kid_

~ * ~

28th July 2017

Hermione,

Another one of my birthdays is almost here, and still, you are not.

I wonder, at this point, if you even remember what day my birthday is on? Perhaps the 31st will simply go by without a thought from you? I would hope you haven’t completely forgotten me. Sometimes I look up at the stars and imagine you’re staring up at them too and it helps me get through the next day a little better.

Here’s something you never learned about me Hermione: I can play cricket.

Dad made the decision to take me along to the local sports ground and have a session in the nets. At first, I was hesitant, but then the coach said I was good, and put me straight in the team. I don’t like the idea of playing on my birthday but maybe that’ll bring good luck.

Or maybe I’ll get out first ball.

Harry, _The Walking Duck_

~ * ~

9th August 2017

Hermione,

I’m sixteen now.

Did you know it’s illegal to get a tattoo before you’re eighteen?

I didn’t. I think that sucks, because recently, I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. Sirius told me, in confidence, that he knows a guy that would do it for me. And I know what you’re going to say: “Harry, no, it’s permanent!”. Who cares? Maybe if you were here you could talk me out of it, but I think I’m going to go ahead with it.

I’m just trying to decide what to get? Sirius suggested _The Ghastly Brothers_ logo, and you know, it isn’t a bad idea.

In the meantime, I decided to do something a little less permanent, and died my hair white. I think even you wouldn’t recognise me at this point. Mum wasn’t happy, dad had a chuckle when he saw it and Sirius, well, he’s still sending me videos of himself laughing.

You know what else I hope isn’t permanent? You’re absence.

Three years on, I still don’t know why I keep doing this to myself, but every time I look out my window towards your old house, I expect to be able to see you again. Most of the time, the blinds to your old room are closed, which you never did, because you always liked the idea of being able to see me whenever you liked.

I miss that.

Harry, _The Boy of Age_

~ * ~

21st September 2017

Hermione,

I sometimes wish I had the power to go back in time and change things. If I did, I would have gone back to three years ago and stopped you from leaving. I could do with your calming influence right about now. I would also go back three hours ago and stop myself from showing my parents my new tattoo, maybe dad and I wouldn’t have had a row.

Now I’m sitting in the hospital waiting room. I feel terrible, I had to share my thoughts with somebody, and mum didn’t want me sitting in the room with them anymore. The doctors say it isn’t too serious, but I’m not sure, there seems to be a lot of whispering going on. What is it with people and whispering in hospitals?

It’s not a bloody library.

What am I supposed to do, Hermione? Please tell me? Please help me.

I need one of your hugs.

Harry, _The Grim Reaper_

~ * ~

1st October 2017

Hermione,

Dad got released from hospital today.

I don’t think you can know how you feel about someone until you almost lose them. I had some terrible thoughts sitting in that hospital waiting room, not being able to do anything, whilst a machine kept my father alive.

Despite the doctors persisting with the line of thought that it wasn’t serious, it took dad over a week to recover, and still he hasn’t regained his strength completely. I was getting pretty sick of visiting hospital and I’m glad he’s home safe, even though it’s obvious he’s still angry at me. And yet, in order to make mum happy, we are persisting with this act that I’m very much sorry and he doesn’t blame me at all.

Besides, he said to his doctors that it’s probably his daily vanilla slices from the café in town coming back to haunt him.

Mum has had a slightly harder time hiding her emotions towards me. I know she will always love me, but I’ve never seen her more upset with me than she has been this week. I’m a little unsure at this point what to do or say about it. I’ve wanted to do nothing else but leave this town behind since you left, but now, everything has changed, and it would be the worst possible thing for me to do right now.

When Sirius came to visit, I tried to ask him for advice, but even he seemed somewhat distant towards me and he used the excuse of being in a rush in order not to talk to me. I think he feels as guilty about helping me get my tattoo as I do about having got one.

Harry, _The Unwanted_

~ * ~

20th November 2017

Hermione,

Everyone seems to be just fine here in the Potter household at Godric’s Hollow. At least, that’s what we’re telling each other, as dad slowly gets back to normal. Lying must be contagious, where one lie leads to another and another, and suddenly, there seems to be an epidemic around here.

Dad is not fine, he’s getting better yes, but despite him saying so, he’s still feeling lethargic from spending a week in hospital. At least the majority of us know for sure he’s not fine, and out of everyone, he’s the one that’s able to get away with saying he is fine, because no one around here is going to stop helping him, regardless of what he says.

Mum is definitely not fine, perhaps physically she is, but mentally, not so much. Her stress about dad since his trip to the hospital has increased tenfold after returning home. She is attempting to do everything for him, and despite it being slightly obvious that she herself is struggling, I’m not about to tell her. I leave that to dad, and sometimes I see them hugging, and her admitting that she’s not so great.

I, for sure, am not fine. But I have to be. I can’t be reliant on my parents to look out for me right now. I’ve done a bit of growing up this past fortnight. I get myself out of bed now, I get my own breakfast from the local café on my way to school (and I don’t actually wag) and I cooked dinner tonight, which was a first.

Mum and dad _actually_ ate it and _seriously_ thanked me. Okay, it was pasta with peas, and the praise was brief, but I’ll take it!

PS You’ll also be pleased to know I washed the white out of my hair, I always have my tattoo covered up now and I actually went to the optometrist of my own volition and got my glasses upgraded, which was desperately needed.

Harry, _The Self-Sufficient_

~ * ~

15th December 2017

Hermione,

It’ll be the first time in a few years the Potter’s aren’t going anywhere at Christmas time. Considering what happened to my dad, I think we’re just thankful the three of us are having a Christmas together at all.

He’s much better now.

But it doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty. I’ve even done something this year that I never do. I bought my parents presents. In case mum reads this (I really hope you don’t, mum!) I won’t say what I got them for Christmas, I really just want them to like it.

I decided to use the money that I had saved up, which was going to go towards me leaving this place, but I’ll be staying now, I have some healing to do for myself. I realised the other day that, despite my desperate attempts at leaving, I don’t want to go anymore.

It only took dad having a brush with death to make me realise this.

Harry, _The Secret Santa_

~ * ~

1st January 2018

Hermione,

It’s the start of another year and you’re still not here.

I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened in the past few years. You’re not here with me anymore, and it sucks, but, I don’t think I want to live in the past anymore. I’m six months away from entering my senior year at school and I’m still thinking like a thirteen-year-old. I get quite embarrassed when, every now and then, I look back at what I’ve written you over that time and then, more and more I start thinking to myself, that maybe I shouldn’t anymore.

I still don’t know what to do, it’s only been 2018 for a few hours, and I need more time to think before I put a line through your name and use this year as a fresh start.

I’ll get back to you on that.

Harry, _The Boy Stuck in the Past_

~ * ~

24th February 2018

Hermione,

I had another dream about you.

No, it wasn’t dirty, but it was different. Usually I’m asleep when I dream of you, but today I was sitting under the tree in the backyard, where we used to love hanging out, and I heard you start talking to me. I couldn’t believe it, but you were telling me everything I needed to hear, about forgetting the past and moving on with life.

Because, after all, that’s what you’ve done, isn’t it?

I’ve decided not to hate you. Hate turns into fights and then good, innocent people like my dad end up in hospital. I don’t ever want that happening again. He played his first game of cricket last weekend since getting better, he was so happy, even though it was just against the seniors of the club.

Whilst I plan to move on, I don’t think I could ever forget you, but I will just have to remember you in a different way. Such as, smiling broadly whenever I’m having a strawberry milkshake or laughing hysterically when the flash of a camera goes off…

So, I guess this means the end of our chats.

Farewell, Hermione.

Harry


	3. Photographs

##  Chapter Two 

##  Photographs 

_Eighteen Months Later_

The summer holidays before Harry’s final year at school was shaping up to be one of the most important of his life. In the middle of June, he obtained his first summer job at the local café; at the end of July, he had his eighteenth birthday; and before August had ended, he managed to score his first century in a game of cricket. However, before September could start, and subsequentially his penultimate senior year at high school, Harry had the arduous task of carefully planning for his future.

The school he attended, Godric Hollow Academy, had an excellent scholarship program in place for all of its students. A specialist elective subject can be chosen for the senior year, which they must study intently for the entire term, and are given the chance to attend any range of Universities in the following year, pending the result of their successful graduation. As far as what that would look like for Harry, even by the time August had come along, he had no idea.

At the beginning of the summer break, his mother had made the questionable decision to leave everything up to him. He had, after all, shown great maturity in recent years. However, when she realised he had made no progress on his own, her patience folded, and she instead gave him three simple questions to think about that could help shape his future: What are you good at? What do you enjoy? What do you want to do?

He felt was reasonably good at sport. Specifically, cricket. But a single ton for the local club meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was far from excellent and he was unlikely to turn professional, or to make it a career path.

He enjoyed music. His parents had bought him a guitar a few years back for his birthday, which he had fiddled around with over the journey, but he wasn’t very good at it. There wasn’t any future for him in that. He had participated in other arts, like painting and design, but again there was nothing widely attractive about getting a job in those industries. At least not for him.

As for what he wanted, even he didn’t know that, and he felt like it could take a lifetime for him to figure that out.

Inspiration didn’t find Harry until he spent an afternoon inside one day, out of the scalding heat, cleaning out his childhood from his bedroom. He came across an old shoebox, stuck at the bottom of his large trunk, that was full of old polaroid pictures. There were many familiar faces of Godric Hollow’s finest, as well as the usual wildlife, landscapes and sunsets.

There were also shots of him, taken by someone he had not thought about for a very long time, and then he finally turned a picture over, and there was a young Hermione Granger, staring back up at him, grinning broadly. He felt a sense of purpose wash over him, followed by excitement as each image he turned over drew new wonders, more pictures of her, and then them together and then them with their families.

Perhaps the right emotion should have been for him to cry. He did miss her. But he remembered the promise to himself. So instead, he smiled, but at least he did it so much that it began to make his cheeks hurt and that made him cry. He laughed rather boisterously at a photo of his mother braiding Hermione’s hair, which he had forgotten was something the two of them used to do together. And then, as thrilling as the adventure had been, he turned over the final picture of Hermione and the journey ended.

He sighed, stared down quietly at her smiling face, and then flipped the photo face down.

Harry turned his attention to the polaroid camera sitting at the bottom of the box, which Hermione had given to him before she’d left. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands, then pointed it randomly at the mirror across from himself and set it off. And just like that, as the piece of plastic spat out at him and he took it to fan, an old passion from within him burst out and became reinvigorated.

Photography.

That’s what he was going to do. That’s what he was meant to do, what he should have continued to do after Hermione left, perhaps even more so because she left. It was true that she was the one with the gift and the one that carried the camera around, but she had always told him that he had a knack for taking photos, whilst he had always assumed it had been because of her showing him how.

It took a little while to convince his parents that he truly wanted to do Photography, because like him, they had always assumed the passion had been Hermione’s, not his.

‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do, sweetheart?’ his mother kept asking over dinner, her eyes kept glancing towards the old-fashioned polaroid camera sitting on the edge of the table.

‘Yes, mum,’ Harry said for the umpteenth time, ‘I’ve spent the afternoon thinking about it. And I’ve made my choice—’

‘We just don’t want you to rush into the decision,’ Lily said seriously, ‘a single afternoon doesn’t seem like enough time.’

‘Perhaps we should trust him—?’ James tried to say, he was playing with his dinner, and looking unsure how he should participate in the conversation.

‘You’ve been on my back this summer about this,’ Harry said, feeling his temper rising slowly, ‘and now that I’ve found something, you’re saying I should take more time? I start back at school again on Monday, and the decision needed to be made.’

‘I know, but…’ Lily bit her lip and hesitated, ‘like I said earlier, I always thought the Photography obsession was Hermione’s—’

‘She always told me I was good with the camera,’ Harry said defensively, putting his cutlery down.

‘All right, listen,’ James said, taking a deep breath, and because of his history, whenever he did this, everyone immediately froze. ‘Maybe,’ he said slowly, looking intently at his wife, ‘we could step back for a minute and come to an arrangement…’

James trailed off. Harry’s eyebrows were travelling farther and farther up his forehead with each word his father spoke. Lily’s bright green eyes had turned to slits. James hesitated.

‘Let’s give him a day,’ James said finally, staring across the table at Lily, who remained unmoved, ‘he can take some photos for us, we’ll see how they look and just… go from there.’

The dinner table went quiet. Lily went back to eating, with her eyes piercing the back of James’ skull, as Harry reached for the camera and looked inside.

‘I do need more film,’ Harry said quickly, getting a look from his parents as he fondled with the inside of the camera. ‘Any idea where I can buy old polaroid film in town?’

A wry smile spread across James’ face as he picked up his knife and fork. ‘I’ll take you,’ he said quietly, and as they all went back to their dinners, the tensions dropped somewhat.

~ * ~

First thing the next morning, James took Harry across town to a small camera shop on the outskirts, where it sat parallel with the railway line carrying large freight trains going from town to town. In the many times that Harry was stowed away in one of them, whilst wagging school, he never once noticed this store. They walked into the small shop, and James went over to the empty counter and rang the bell.

It took a minute, but eventually a small, blonde-haired man appeared from behind a door towards the back, looking slightly apprehensive towards the potential customers. When he saw James standing there, he moved forwards excitedly and they shook hands.

‘Morning Frank,’ James said casually, leaning against the counter.

‘James Potter, you daft old sod, great to see you,’ Frank said in a slightly high-pitched voice. ‘How’s the old clock doing?’

‘Everything is much better, thanks,’ James said with a wink, patting his chest, ‘you remember my son?’

Harry half-waved when Frank look at him, who nodded, and returned his gaze to James.

‘What can I help you with today? Are you or your son looking to buy a camera?’ he asked politely, yet hopefully.

‘Oh, okay, straight to the point,’ James said promptly, standing to his full height. ‘We’re in need of your expertise, mate. Looking to purchase some film for a camera.’

‘Well, I’m sure I could help you with that,’ Frank said with a chuckle to himself. ‘May I ask what sort of camera you need film for?’

When Harry passed over the old polaroid camera, the smile vanished almost instantly from Frank’s face. He looked back up at the two of them as if he was expecting someone to suddenly jump out from behind them and yell surprise. But when it didn’t happen, and when he realised that they were being very serious, he studied the camera more carefully by flipping it over in his hands. He appeared somewhat flummoxed that a camera of such advanced years could still be in working order.

‘Well, she is a little beauty,’ he said mostly to himself, ‘I must admit gentlemen… I’m a little taken aback by this.’

‘Is it old?’ James asked curiously.

‘Ancient,’ Frank assured him, but then quickly shook his head. ‘My father used to sell this brand, that’s how old it is, and I haven’t seen film for it since the nineties. However, and not to get anyone’s hopes up, but there is the slimmest of chances that there might be some in the new-old stock box.’

‘What’s new-old stock?’ Harry asked seriously.

But Frank didn’t elaborate.

He just suggested that it was a bit of a long shot and disappeared into the back. For five to ten minutes, James and Harry looked around the small shop, admiring all the different cameras, camera equipment and the notice board full of old photographs. Eventually Frank returned from the back, looking thoroughly confused.

‘Three boxes,’ he said, placing them down on the counter and looking at them in disbelief. ‘I am in disbelief that this film still exists in my inventory. Found it lodged at the bottom of a drawer, never seen it there before. Almost like it magically appeared out of nowhere.’

‘Guess it’s our lucky day,’ James said coolly, taking it in his stride as he reached for his pocket. ‘How much for all of it?’

‘Well,’ Frank picked one of the boxes up again and surveyed it, ‘it’s unlikely I’ll ever get another customer who wants them. How does five pounds sound?’

‘Five pounds?’ James asked with a raised eyebrow, as Frank nodded. ‘Right—’

‘I’ll pay,’ Harry said, stepping forward in front of his father.

James shrugged and didn’t argue as Harry fumbled with his own wallet and handed over the five pounds to Frank.

‘Thank you,’ he said, pocketing the money. ‘I suppose you know how to insert the film into the camera?’

James looked sideways at Harry, who went stone-faced and just stared down blankly at the camera for a moment.

Five minutes later, after Frank gave him a quick tutorial on how to put the film into the camera, James and Harry left with the boxes of film and Harry began taking pictures again. For the entire walk home, Harry was recklessly setting off the polaroid by taking shots of the people and the scenery going by.

‘Don’t waste all of the film at once,’ James said to his son wisely, when they’d turned into their street, and the flash of the camera had gone off again. ‘If this Photography thing works out for you, you’re either going to have to find some more film, or buy a new camera.’

‘Maybe I’ll look online,’ Harry said, flapping the most recent photograph he’d taken in the wind. ‘Hermione always said that she thought the old-style cameras were the best ones.’

He raised the camera up in front of his face again, pointing it randomly in front of him, and saw through the viewfinder a large van parked up the street. At first, he took the photograph without much thought, but then, after he’d processed the bit of plastic, he did a double-take and looked towards where he had been pointing the camera.

‘Is that a moving van?’ he asked his father, as they approached the vehicle sitting outside the house next door to theirs.

‘Looks like it,’ James said casually, as they came to a halt a few metres away and two men came trundling out, one was about James’ age, the other was Harry’s age, and someone he actually recognised. ‘Hello lads. I’m James, this is my son, Harry, we live next door. Are you two our new neighbours or just the movers?’

‘Just the movers,’ the older one said, as he and James shook hands, ‘Diggory and Son Movers.’

He whipped out his business card from his back pocket in the blink of an eye.

‘Just in case,’ the man said with a laugh and a shrug. ‘The name is Amos, by the way, Amos Diggory.’

James looked down at the card that was being handed to him and blinked. ‘You’re local,’ he said, looking up in alarm, ‘how come I’ve never heard of you?’

‘We live the next town over, actually,’ Amos explained, ‘but we do jobs all over the county. This one,’ he pointed to his tall, handsome son, that Harry knew to be Cedric, ‘attends the school here. So perhaps our boys know each other?’

Harry and Cedric had been eyeing each other tensely, but when they were called upon by their parents, they looked away.

‘Yeah, I know who he is,’ Cedric said promptly, turning to climb back into the back of the moving van.

‘Not best friends, obviously,’ James said with a laugh, attempting to ease the sudden tension, ‘so, is there anything you can tell us the people moving in here?’

‘Not really,’ Amos said truthfully, climbing up into the van to join his son, ‘we were hired by a storage company to move some furniture to this address for their clients. Someone with a bit of money it sounds like. But I couldn’t tell you who, sorry.’

‘No problem mate,’ James and Harry waved farewell and took the path back up to their house. ‘It’s about time we got some new neighbours. The old ones moved out six months ago. I wonder if Lily knows?’

Harry was unsure how he felt about having to break in yet another new neighbour. He despised the old ones, he always felt that they were no good, that they had this hidden agenda, but then, considering who the neighbour was before them, he was perhaps being unkindly judgemental.

Harry turned his attention onto his new mission of finding that one-in-a-million photograph of something in or around the Potter house that would ultimately convince his parents that it was the right thing for him to do. He took a long walk out the back of Godric’s Hollow, which was full of fields and green landscape in every direction. Unfortunately, the part of the country which his town was in was the middle of nowhere and meant that repetitiveness was a little bit of a problem.

By late afternoon, Harry was back in his bedroom, running out of ideas. Harry had set the camera down on his desk with the pile of photographs and was staring aimlessly at the wall, waiting for something, anything to jump out at him. He sat there for a while, but nothing did come, eventually he reached for the pile of photos and began to flip through them, attempting to find a gem amongst the pile.

At best, a picture he took of his father, walking alone along a dirt pathway, was about as artistic as it got. He held it up, with the bare wall in the background, and the light from his window behind him shining against the plastic. He thought it was good, but, perhaps not fantastic, and he needed something excellent to convince his parents.

Harry lowered the picture and found himself staring at the bare wall again. He paused, and then, an odd idea hit him. He tilted his head, brought the single photograph back up to eye level, and held it outward, towards the wall. Maybe he just needed a better perspective?

Harry leapt into action. He rummaged around in his desk draw for some tape and some pins, collected up the stack of photographs, and began to stick them to the bare wall of his bedroom. He didn’t stop to contemplate what his mother would say about him defacing their house, he just went for it. There was no rhyme or reason to his order, or to the neatness, he just made rows of photographs, and even the rows weren’t uniform in number.

Harry sat back down on his bed and stared at the masterpiece he’d created on the wall. Was it a masterpiece? Maybe. Looking at each individual photograph, none of them were all that special on their own. However, as a part of a larger decoration, Harry thought it was rather quite appealing what he’d done, and he was suddenly very happy with himself.

Harry picked up the old polaroid camera again and promptly took a photo of the wall. As always, the bit of plastic shot out and he grabbed it and began to fan it. Eventually he looked down at his photo of a wall of photographs and sighed.

‘Something’s missing,’ he said to himself, sounding annoyed.

He looked around randomly for inspiration. In the aftermath of him cleaning out his room yesterday afternoon, the tops of his desk, clothes drawer and bedside table were all reasonably bare. There were no longer just random items scattered across his floor and he’d thrown all his dirty clothes into the hamper. The one thing that had remained untouched from his cleanout was his posters of _The Ghastly Brothers_ , but again, it didn’t help his imagination.

Harry looked back down at the old polaroid camera in his hands and tried to think. _What would Hermione have done?_ She would not have settled for the simplicity of the photo wall, Harry was right that something was missing, she would have found a way to one-up herself. And then, it was like he was thirteen again, and he was remembering the very last photograph they took together, a trend which had been reborn into society for the past decade.

A selfie.

Harry stood up from his bed in excitement, turned his back on his photograph wall, held the camera up in front of himself, did his best attempt at lining things up and took a selfie. The usual process of spitting plastic and fanning heat proceeded. Harry sat back down on his bed in anticipation of the final product and eventually turned it over to look at.

‘Nope,’ Harry said, it wasn’t right, he was unhappy with it, so he pinned it to the wall instead and took a step back thinking.

He wanted to go with the same idea, but different. He looked around his room again curiously and spotted his bookcase. With a fair bit of effort and noise, he heaved it from the corner towards the opposite wall of his photograph montage. He lined it up just about centre, picked up the old polaroid and then looked for the switch that Hermione had shown him and taught him how to use.

They had often used the timer in order to get shots of them running or playing in the distance without the aid of another person. Harry set it to ten seconds, placed it on top of the bookcase that barely reached his torso, then once he’d set it going, moved to the other side of the bed and stood in front of the photo wall, looking into the lens of the camera.

The flash went off, blinding him slightly, and as the plastic was spat out, he rushed around the bed to collect it. After a bit of fanning, it became visible and he blinked down at it. A face with the look of uncertainty was staring back up at him, as he made a face of uncertainty, and determined yet again, that it _just_ wasn’t enough.

He made one more desperate attempt at getting it right. He pinned that photograph to the wall, reset the timer, got back into place and this time, he put his back to the camera. He tried to stay as perfectly still as he could as the flash went off again, and then after a moment, he rushed back to the camera and collected the hot little piece of plastic that required intense flapping.

And then came the moment of him flipping it over to see the finished product.

‘Perfect.’

~ * ~

Harry’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed that evening. After he had shown them his photograph, his parents had gone to inspect the wall of photos for themselves, and when they realised how much he’d dedicated setting up the shot, they finally accepted his decision. The following morning, the three of them were in the waiting room outside the Headmaster’s office, waiting their turn to go in and sign up for the elective subject.

With the first of September in mere days, the school was expecting all seniors to sign up to the program and have a rough idea of what Universities they would like to attend. Harry wasn’t so bothered about that right now, he had just picked three at random, and was going to list them each as a potential.

The door to the Headmaster’s office opened, and out walked Cho Chang with her parents. Harry felt the chair he was sitting on squeak as he tensed up. It had been over a year since they had their thing, and he was over it, but he could never not be rigid around her. It used to hurt that she never noticed him, but now he was used to it, and despite the fact he was sure she saw him, she made no notion that she did, and the Headmaster escorted her and her parents out.

‘Are you okay, dear?’ his mother asked him worryingly, she reached for his hand, which had turned a rather pale white colour.

‘Yes, fine,’ Harry said quickly, shifting in his seat.

‘He’s fine, Lily,’ James said in response, he was still hiding behind one of the educational magazines he’d picked up from the waiting room table.

However, when Lily wasn’t looking, James did briefly put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and grasp it firmly.

‘All right, Harry,’ Headmaster Dumbledore glided back into the waiting room and outstretched his arm, inviting them towards his office.

The three Potter’s stood up. Lily became visibly anxious, she kept tugging at Harry’s collar, even after they’d entered the room and sat down.

‘All right, sweetheart,’ Lily said under her breath. ‘Remember to—’

‘Mum,’ Harry hissed firmly, ‘if you remind me to smile one more time—’

‘Okay, okay,’ Lily said, taking a breath and then pulling away from her son.

Dumbledore came around the desk and took a seat down in his large chair. He reached for a stack of folders marked with student’s name and quickly found Harry’s, which he opened, then pushed his half-moon spectacles back up to the ridge of his nose.

‘First of all, I want to thank you, Harry,’ Dumbledore said, looking up to survey Harry across the desk. ‘You’ve shown excellent improvement in the past eighteen months or so. Your attendance has skyrocketed, so has your attitude, and the entire staff here at Godric Hollow Academy, including myself, thank you for that. We much prefer model students here, rather than, umm… err… reprobates.’

Harry let his mother hug him and kiss him on the cheek in joy of this news, but he couldn’t help and stare blankly at Dumbledore, feeling a little insulted.

‘Irrespective of your past,’ Dumbledore went on, glancing back down at Harry’s record, ‘you’ve managed just fine to pass all of your preceding years of exams, so therefore, I can without hesitation grant your permission to begin your Senior year at Godric Hollow Academy. And so, you know what that means—’

‘Photography,’ Harry said immediately, not letting him ask the question.

Dumbledore looked up at him curiously, raising his eyebrows before a wry smile began to form at the side of his mouth.

‘Harry,’ Lily said seriously, ‘don’t interrupt, darling.’

‘It’s quite alright,’ Dumbledore said with a chuckle, ‘truthfully James, Lily, it’s quite refreshing to have a student come in here and instantly know what they want. You wouldn’t believe the amount of uncertainty appears on the faces of my students when asked one of the most important questions of their lifetimes.’

‘Really?’ James asked, sounding suddenly interested. ‘More than half would you say?’

‘James—’

‘Easily,’ Dumbledore said happily, he put Harry’s folder down on the desk and reached for the drawers, opening them sequentially until he found what he was after and excavated it. ‘Here you are, Harry. Photography.’

Dumbledore handed him quite an elaborate pamphlet. It had the Godric Hollow Academy logo on the front, as well as a ton of information that Harry figured he’d read at a later date, and the headline in bold letters was:

_Photography with Professor R.J. Lupin._

‘Professor Lupin is our Photography teacher here at Godric Hollow Academy,’ Dumbledore said proudly, ‘I’m sure you’ve seen him around, Harry. And although he prefers to keep to himself, I can assure you without question, that he is one of the best in the country. He was rather famous in the nineties, but has since dedicated himself to teaching, you won’t find much better than him in all of Great Britain.’

‘That sounds great,’ James said positively, looking sideways at Harry. ‘Right?’

‘Yeah,’ Harry said, sounding unsure.

He had seen Professor Lupin at least once, he was sure, and at the time, well, let’s just say his first impression didn’t scream _famous_.

‘Excellent,’ Dumbledore said, glossing over Harry’s hesitation, ‘well, Professor Lupin will be glad to have you, Harry, he has plenty of room in his class still. All that’s left then, really, is to talk Universities. Have you had any thought—?’

‘Here’s three,’ Harry said, having instantly reached for his pocket and pulled out the folded-up broachers for the Universities he wanted listed as potential scholarships on his profile.

Dumbledore blinked and collected them up. He glanced over them, as James and Lily sat there nervously, looking sideways at their son.

‘Very well,’ Dumbledore said, looking up at Harry, ‘I don’t mean to push, of course, but any preference?’

‘The posh one,’ James said with a chuckle, causing the other three to stare at him. ‘What? Well, we want the best for our son, don’t we?’

‘It’s fine,’ Dumbledore said kindly, as Harry opened his mouth to retort, ‘Harry has done more than enough. I will get the paperwork all done and we can smooth out the finer details at a later date. Make sure you read that pamphlet carefully, Harry, and we’ll see you back here and ready to go on Monday, okay?’

Harry nodded and Dumbledore extended his hand for Harry to take and shake. He did the same for James and Lily and then, like he had with Cho and her parents, escorted them out of his office and through to the hallway, where he waved goodbye to them.

‘Well, that wasn’t too bad,’ James said brightly, ruffling his son’s hair.

‘You could have at least given him a name of a University,’ Lily said, frowning at her son.

‘Mum, I’m eighteen now, please stop nit-picking every decision I make,’ Harry said irritably, but he couldn’t help but give a small smile over them worrying.

‘You’re still our baby,’ Lily said, hugging him and kissing his cheek again.

Harry sighed.

‘At least he decided on an elective,’ James said proudly with a laugh as he pushed open the door to the exit and the stepped out into the pouring sunshine together. ‘Can you believe that there were actually parents who let their kid into that interview unprepared?’

‘I can,’ Harry said seriously, ‘it was a tough decision.’

‘Please promise me you’ll make a decision on a University as soon as you can too,’ Lily said quickly, as they passed through the gate and left the school grounds to embark on the twenty-minute walk home. ‘Once you’ve settled into the year, of course.’

‘I promise,’ Harry said nodding, and to show that he meant it, he took his mother’s hand, and didn’t let go of it until they were back at the Potter house.


	4. The Photography Clique

## Chapter Three

## The Photography Clique

It was Harry Potter’s first day of his senior year at Godric Hollow Academy.

Waking up that day felt stranger than any other school morning he’d ever experienced. Whereas before he’d felt nervous and anxious starting a new year at school, today, he was incredibly excited about what was before him. To say that he wasn’t nervous at all was a bit of a lie, really, but at the same time, he was confident that he’d made the right decision with Photography and it was where he belonged.

According to his timetable, Monday afternoon would be the first time he had his elective Photography Class, so at least he wouldn’t have to wait long to be properly introduced to both the subject and Remus Lupin.

Harry climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. When he returned to his room, he found his mother had very sneakily gone in and laid out some fresh clothes for him in advance. All weekend she had been banging on about how important this day was for him and she was attempting to do everything to make it great.

Harry grabbed his backpack, laptop and Hermione’s old polaroid camera, and headed downstairs. His mother already had bacon and eggs cooked for him and ready when he reached the breakfast table. As he ate, Lily attempted to run a damp comb through his messy black hair, continuing to talk about first impressions and the lack of care he had about his appearance. Harry tried to make the case that it was more important being himself rather than be the picture of perfection.

Lily disagreed.

Perhaps for the first time since he started high school, Harry was accompanied out of the house and down the pathway to the street by his mother, before she sent him on his way with a good luck kiss on the cheek. Feeling weird, he tried to smile as he put in his ear buds and began to listen to _The Ghastly Brothers_ with the volume all the way up as he went on his way.

Harry didn’t have his first Photography Class until that afternoon, before then, it was business as usual on a Monday morning for him and his fellow below-average-intelligent classmates who, once again, would be taking _General Mathematics_. Every level of Maths at the school was taught by the same teacher, a very stern looking woman by the name of Minerva McGonagall.

She was tall, with black greying hair, and had a constant look of sternness etched on her face. She had a reputation in the school of being harsh towards those who were not serious about math, and yet at the same time, she could be kind and understanding and helpful. She waited for them to take their seats before standing at the front of the class and addressing them.

‘Welcome to your final year of maths, _Seniors_ ,’ she said clearly and precisely, ‘you should all know the drill by now, but in case you’ve forgotten, let me just say this. I have no patience for slackers in this class, you’re only warned once, mess about in my presence, and you will be shown the door without an invite to return. Now, please raise your hand when I call out your name, no talking and no nonsense please.’

Professor McGonagall went through the list of names methodically and efficiently as always. When she finally put the list down, she went about explaining the outline of what _General Mathematics_ would entail this year and what she expects from the students in her class. Harry was pleased to hear that they would just be continuing with the basics, nothing too complex and hard to understand, because he hated math.

Though the class was allocated two hours originally, she was well and truly done explaining everything before then, so after she gave them some homework on fractions, they were allowed out early and Harry headed to the school’s infamous cafeteria for lunch. Unfortunately, the food had always been somewhat underwhelming at a school where its educational program is considered first-class. Whenever he could, Harry would venture off-campus for lunch, often choosing the nearby diner as his preferred eating.

However, he didn’t bother today. He settled on a burger and soda and then attempted arguably one of the most difficult decisions a high-school student can make: looking for somewhere to sit. There had always been a clique culture at Godric Hollow Academy. Lunch time in the cafeteria became a strange place, there was an arrangement where each faction could sit, kind of like a city with a different gang in each part of town.

There were the _Science Geeks_. The “Geeky” science students, who usually played board games like Chess, instead of partaking in recreational activities, such as sport. They have always been easy to spot for Harry, because they are generally seen wearing fanatic shirts based on their passions, such as sci-fic television, fantasy movies and comic books. A _Science Geek_ table in the cafeteria can be easily identified by the presence of a Dungeons and Dragons role-playing board.

Then there’s the _Math Nerds_. These students are known more commonly as the smart kids, who study math with an unhealthy level of devotion, and refuse to spend time doing anything else. If there is a student in the cafeteria who is wearing a face shield whilst they peel the skin of an orange, it’s safe to assume that’s the _Math Nerds_ table. When they aren’t studying in the library, they are travelling in packs, hoping that safety in numbers will help keep them from being picked on by the bullies at the school.

However, Godric Hollow Academy is a school that best focuses on Science and Arts programs, so there aren’t the typical reprobates (as Dumbledore had put it) you’d find at a usual British school, instead there are the _Sport Science Jocks_. They were about as athletic as you could get at Godric Hollow, they lived and breathed sport, or at least any sport that could be statistically analysed, and unless you knew how the Duckworth-Lewis method worked, you couldn’t sit with them at their table.

The _Theatre Thespians,_ however, were perfectly fine with you sitting at their table, as long as you adhered to their impromptu dancing sessions on tabletops and can deal with your lunch sometimes ending in your lap. Harry had always secretly admired the theatre students, not just because Cho Chang was part of the group, but because of their lavish outfits, their love of life and music and their complete carefree attitude of wandering the hallways and belting out the lyrics to their favourite Broadway musicals.

Their love for music was only surpassed by the _Music Rockers_ of Godric Hollow Academy, possibly the most eclectic group, who tended to mingle in small numbers with similar interests in music. Harry believed he could belong in _Music Rockers_ , because he played guitar and loved _The Ghastly Brothers_. But as much as he hated to deny it, the Rock and Roll lifestyle wasn’t for him anymore, and he didn’t fancy always wearing band T-shirts, lots of jewellery, and baggy or tight jeans.

But on the other end of the scale, he didn’t envy the _Fashion Hipsters_ either, who make a big effort to assemble a wardrobe that seems effortless. They are always following the latest trends in fashion and often like to do what is _uncool_ before it becomes _cool_. A typical table of _Fashion Hipsters_ in the cafeteria consists of all genders wearing tight jeans, flannel shirts, Buddy Holly glasses and vintage clothing.

Finally, there were the _Photography Preps_ , the elitist students, the rich and stylish, the entitled and stuck-up who walked the hallways of the school as if they owned it. Out of al the social circles at the school, the _Preps_ was not exclusive to a single subject. And although they dominated Photography, there were students who fit the mould at just about every table in the cafeteria. That was why, technically, there was not a _Photography Preps_ table to be found.

Photography tables did exist, of course, Harry knew not all students in the field fit the category of a Prep. He certainly wasn’t rich and stylish, though he had been given a pretty entitled life by his parents, and he had been a stuck-up, rebellious teenager in the past. This was why, for the entirety of his time at Godric Hollow Academy, he had never known which group he fit in to best.

Aside from a brief period a few years back, when Cho Chang had considered him cool and had dragged him to the Theatre table, Harry had always preferred to sit alone. He could potentially make a case to sit with the other Photography students now, but he didn’t know any of them yet and thought he should at least wait until they’ve had one class together.

Instead, he found a rare empty table somewhere near the back and sat down.

A tall, lanky guy with red hair sporting a Star Trek t-shirt, who had watched Harry go and sit on his own, collected his tray of food from the _Science Geeks_ table he was eating with and swiftly moved to sit opposite Harry. Harry, who had barely even settled in his seat, raised his eyebrows in question at this person’s sudden arrival.

‘Hello,’ the ginger said brightly, grinning at Harry. ‘I’m Ron Weasley.’

‘Harry Potter,’ Harry said, they shook hands. ‘I haven’t seen you around before.’

‘I’m new,’ Ron said with a shrug, ‘I moved from Devon just to do my senior year here, because of the excellent scholarship program they have in place here. You’re a senior too, right?’

Harry nodded. He had chosen that moment to take a bite of his burger.

‘My elective is Science,’ he said, as if Harry hadn’t been observant enough to figure that out on his own. ‘You?’

‘Photography,’ Harry managed to get out after ungracefully swallowing his mouthful.

‘Cool,’ Ron said, beginning to settle in and eat as if they were old friends who met for lunch regularly. ‘But I kind of figured. I saw your old polaroid. She’s a beauty.’

Aside from being pale and ginger, Ron wasn’t the sort of Geek that Harry was used to meeting. Whilst he came across as being a know-it-all, it turned out he knew quite a lot, and he had a very relaxed sense of humour. They talked at great length about cameras, famous photographers and old sci-fi movies. They traded phone numbers with the thought that they might help study together in the future, and honestly, Harry was just glad to have made a friend, considering the luck he had had with making them in the past.

After lunch he had _British History_ that was taught by a man named Cuthbert Binns. Professor Binns perfectly embodied the stereotypical middle-age, middle-class Englishmen. He was rather quite proper in the way he dressed and the way he spoke, however, he was also rather boring. The exact moment that every bum was on a seat in his classroom, his lecture would begin, and it would not stop until the end of class bell rang overhead.

He had this dull, monotonous, droning voice that had the tendency to make his students feel rather drowsy within minutes. After ten minutes on the subject of _The Slave Trade Act of 1807_ , Harry began to have the familiar feeling of his eyelids becoming heavier and his posture collapsing slightly. He tried his best to take notes, but after a while the words became rather blurred between the lines, and his sentences weren’t making sense. He had stopped feeling guilty about not paying attention to Professor Binns years ago, because it was a bit of a Godric Hollow tradition for students to space out in History class.

There was a short break, and then finally, Harry’s first class in Photography started. Almost immediately, he got the indication that this was a subject he was far less likely to fall asleep in.

When they reached the classroom, the door was already open, so they shuffled in and took their seats. Harry had chosen the one the furthest in the back, when an older man with pale skin, greying light-brown hair and premature aging lines on his face walked in. He didn’t exactly look the part, his clothes were a little shabby and loose, and he carried a bag on his hip that looked even older than he was.

He stopped on the other side of the threshold and looked around at the group of students blinking at him, instantly judging his appearance, and wondering aimlessly if this old man had walked into the wrong room by mistake.

‘Who can give me the name of the most influential photographer of the twentieth century?’

Everyone looked around at each other, confused. It took a minute to sink in that this might in fact be Remus Lupin, the best Photography teacher that ran the best Photography Class in the country, and so therefore, several hands flew into the air, attempting to grasp his immediately attention.

‘Alfred Hitchcock?’ said a stuck-up, entitled rich girl who Harry disliked immensely.

Pansy Parkinson was an elitist student at Godric Hollow Academy. Everything about her had to be _the best_ , from the clothes she wore, to the electronic devices she owned and to the way she looked, down to the smallest detail, such as the diamond encrusted butterfly clips she had in her hair. She had a foul attitude towards anything that she considered below her standard, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the war that was raging inside her head, when she looked at Professor Lupin, knew of his stature in Photography and thought, _that_ was what she had to suck up to.

‘Correct,’ Professor Lupin said, casually walking to the front desk to dispense of his bag, whilst Pansy bathed in her own bathwater of triumph. ‘At least, you would be… if this class was about filmography instead of Photography.’

Pansy turned red in the face.

‘Don’t feel bad, it was a safe answer,’ said Professor Lupin standing before the class and beaming out at them all, ‘hello, I’m Remus Lupin. Welcome to _Photography_. It is always lovely, at the start of a new term, to see fresh faces smiling up at me, before I start handing you all out homework and you inevitable loathe me. This is always my favourite time of year, when it’s still slightly warm outside, the leaves are changing colour, everything is a picture waiting to be taken—’

Professor Lupin sighed and looked down at the piece of paper in his hand.

‘Unfortunately, not all of you are here today,’ he said sadly, ‘according to my rundown sheet, a few of us are missing in action, but that’s okay. The first day back is always the hardest. So, I won’t waste one of my magnificent lectures this afternoon. Instead, let’s talk about famous photographers. Does anyone else have a name other that Alfred Hitchcock?’

Several hands flew into the air again, making Professor Lupin smile broadly, point them out and then a discussion started. Harry listened for the most part, he was quite pleased with himself when he was able to come up with a name of a famous photographer not yet mentioned when he was asked upon. Aside from that, he took notes, and then right at the end of the class, Professor Lupin did give out homework that made a few eyes roll.

‘Your homework for this month will be to research more famous photographers and read as many books as you can,’ said Professor Lupin as they were scrambling from their seats. ‘I will be asking all of you, each class, something interesting you’ve read, so if you haven’t been doing it, I will know!’

Harry couldn’t help but leave feeling somewhat inspired.

He made the twenty-minute journey home with the thought that he wanted to begin his research immediately. He half-expected his mother to be waiting for him when he walked in the front door, to ask questions about his first day as a senior, but he got to the bottom of the stairs and there was no sign of her. He called out, but didn’t get anything back, so he figured she was probably out in the backyard hanging up washing.

He didn’t feel too badly about not going out to say he was home; besides, he could tell her about his day at dinner. When he reached his room and ditched his belongings, the one thing that was immediately worrying to him as he raided his bookshelf, was that despite the fact that he had his fair share of novels to read, there was a severe lack of books on Photography that he owned.

He made a note to visit the library first thing in the morning before class, and then took out his laptop and began to do some light research. A myriad of google searches and some reading later, he was called downstairs for dinner and had to bookmark his progress.

‘So, tell us. What’s your teacher like?’ James asked curiously, casually eating his chicken stir-fry as he surveyed his son.

‘Fine, I suppose,’ Harry said lazily in reply, shrugging, as he shovelled some rice into his mouth.

‘Just fine?’ James asked in amusement, raising his eyebrows. ‘Isn’t he supposed to be the best in the country?’

‘He is,’ Harry said carefully, looking up, ‘I mean, he spoke like he knew what he was talking about, and he gave us some great homework on famous photographers—’

‘Then it sounds like you had better get to it after dinner,’ Lily said carefully, surveying her son.

‘I will,’ Harry assured her, he was attempting to eat faster than he should. ‘I’ll probably end up having a late night.’

‘Not too late, I hope?’ Lily said seriously, sitting upright. ‘You have a big day tomorrow.’

‘I know…’ Harry trailed away. He looked up the table at his mother, who was shifting in her chair, and James was glancing at her sideways. ‘What do you mean, _a big day_? Are you all right, mum?’

‘She’s fine,’ James said in answer for her, looking up at his son, ‘we just want you to do well.’

Harry opened his mouth to persist with the conversation but thought better of it. He finished his dinner, collected up their plates and went into the kitchen. Before putting the bowls in the dishwasher, he had to scrape whatever hadn’t been eaten into the bin. He pulled it out from its hiding place under the sink, popped the lid open and was about to tip the contents into the bag when, unusually, something caught his eye.

He put the bowls down on the counter and looked around curiously towards the door for a sign of his parents. When he was sure the coast was clear, he reached in and pulled out a pamphlet on the last subject he’d ever expect to find:

_So… you’re going to be a mother, again?_

Harry felt his heart lodge firmly in his throat. He stared down at the illustration of a young lady with a small bump around her navel, trying to make sense of it, and asking himself what did this mean? Did it mean anything at all? Was it just junk mail mixed in with the usual nonsense? Or was it brought home from the doctors? And why was it in the trash?

Harry hesitated when he heard approaching footsteps. He pocketed the pamphlet, quickly scooped the excess food into the rubbish and pushed the bin back under the sink before James came striding in casually with some more dishes. Harry didn’t say anything. They stacked the dishwasher together and then he made the excuse of having homework to do and hurried upstairs, not even looking his mother in the eye as he went past.

Harry tried his best to continue with his research into famous photographers, but understandably, he was distracted, and despite his best efforts, he’d made little progress by two in the morning and had to call it a night.

~ * ~

Harry’s late night meant that he was running late the next morning. He was still in a state of shock from finding the pamphlet, which meant he rushed from the house without saying much to either of them. He kept it in his bag, because he didn’t want his mother finding he’d retrieved it from the trash and hid it in his room. Harry should probably have asked them about it, in hindsight, but he would feel like an idiot if it was a misunderstanding and besides, he wanted more time to think about what he was going to say.

Harry’s tardiness meant that he almost missed the start of the morning class. Professor Lupin, who almost shut the door in his face by accident, gave Harry a small, bemused smile, stepped aside to let him through and then closed the door behind him.

‘Good morning, all,’ said Professor Lupin, he sounded rather amused as he looked around at the lethargic faces of his students, many of which it was clear had had late nights. ‘I’m chuffed to see so many of you took my advice to do tons of research literally, but I’m going to be lenient, and I’m not going to ask for a famous photographer from each of you, _today_.’

There was a collective sigh of a relief throughout the classroom.

‘However,’ he went on, capturing the attention of everyone immediately, ‘my approach to teaching has always been about getting to know my students. I’d like to learn as much as I can about each of you, about your backgrounds, your ambitions and where you want to be in five years. This morning we’re going to go around the room, and each of you are going to stand up, introduce yourselves and explain the reason why you’re pursuing Photography.’

There was a pause as Professor Lupin reached the front of the class and took a seat behind his desk. He looked around at all the nervous faces with raised eyebrows and waited for the moment to sink in.

‘Would anyone like to go first?’ Professor Lupin asked quietly.

He might as well have asked who wanted to strip down naked, walk the hallways of the school and sing _God Save the Queen_ first. Eventually, a single hand raised into the air, and Pansy Parkinson stood up.

‘All right then,’ Professor Lupin said appreciatively, smiling at her, ‘go ahead, Miss Parks.’

‘It’s Parkinson, sir,’ Pansy said firmly, she seemed slightly offended that he didn’t already know. ‘Pansy Parkinson that is. I err— my family is from London, and my dad is in the timber business, very successful, perhaps you’ve heard of them?’

She was looking expectantly at Professor Lupin, who merely surveyed her with a small smile in silence, allowing her to continue.

‘Anyway,’ Pansy went on, ignoring the silence of shame, ‘I think I’ve always loved Photography, secretly anyway, but it wasn’t until I went on a school excursion to the exhibition centre in London, and went through the Photography exhibit, that it hit me what I wanted to do. And my inspiration, of course, was Remus Lupin. His work was on show there, and I couldn’t get enough of it—’

A small murmur of whispers began to filter through the classroom, her classmates had obviously remembered Pansy’s attempt at sucking up in class yesterday, but this was reaching the next level. Professor Lupin appeared to be quite uneasy about her words, he was shifting in his chair and raising his eyebrows at her curiously.

‘Then I found out you were teaching here,’ Pansy said, ignoring the rest of the class, ‘and, of course, I knew immediately I wanted to come to the school with the finest Photography program and learn under the finest Photography mind in the country. My father made it happen and now here I am. And I’m indescribably excited about the learning ahead of us, so thank you, Professor Lupin.’

Pansy beamed and then sat down in silence. The entire class paused, briefly, and then looked up the front to Professor Lupin, who was taking a moment to process these words, and then glanced back at the class with a smile.

‘Thank you, Miss Parkinson,’ Professor Lupin said, sounding rather bemused, ‘shall we go around the room from there? Miss Greengrass, you’re next.’

He pointed to the other girl sitting at Pansy’s table. She was tall, blonde, and had expensive clothes on. Harry had seen her sitting with Pansy, and the other elitists at the school in the cafeteria, sucking up to the likes of Draco Malfoy as they laughed and sneered and made fun of passing by nerds and geeks.

Daphne Greengrass was absolutely Pansy’s right-hand patsy. She spoke in the same snobbish, entitled way as Pansy had, about experiencing a wealthy upbringing by means of her father’s success in cinematography. The movie industry peaked her interest in all things Photography, and when it was obvious that she was better behind the camera than in front of it, there was only one path she would choose to take for her senior year at school, and that’s where she was now.

Miles Bletchley also reeked of entitlement, and yet, he spoke with much less confidence. He admitted that his parents wanted him to get into the family business, a law firm situated in the heart of London, and he had to fight them off in order to follow his own passion of Photography.

Colin Creevey was almost the completely opposite. He talked about how his father was merely a milkman, at yet his passion throughout life had been Photography, and that his one regret had been never to follow up on it. Pleasingly, Colin had inherited his father’s affection everything camera related, and he carried around the old camera that his dad had owned in his youth. Harry had already seen Colin around campus bearing that camera, taking snapshots with the blaring flash on full and he had wondered what the story was behind it.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was quite an interesting case. His first and foremost passion in life was skateboarding, which he had been doing since a very early age and is something he continued to do. But somewhere along the way, after many hours at his local skate park, he had discovered a different sort of passion when taking photographs of skateboards and his friends. And so, considering he was not good enough to pursue a career in his first passion, Photography felt like the right thing to do.

If it’s true that Godric Hollow Academy students are either rich and entitled or intelligent, then Parvati Patil fell into the category of the latter. Aside from her Photography talent, which she developed as a photographer at her church, Parvati excelled drawings and playing the violin, with an acute love for Mozart. Despite her saying that it was her decision to study Photography, Harry got the feeling that her heavily influential religious family forced her to go with the most viable career path of the three.

After sitting in his seat and listening to what the rest of the class had to say, it was finally Harry’s time to stand up and talk. Despite how long he’d had to think, he found himself unsure of what he wanted to say. In his head, it sounded corny that a box of old polaroids of a childhood friend had been the reason why he’d picked Photography, but it wasn’t like anyone in this room would know who his childhood friend was.

‘Hello, I’m Harry Potter,’ Harry said after he’d stood there paused for a moment, ‘I don’t know what to say about me and my family. We aren’t rich or important. We aren’t from a long line of Photographers. We’re not the fourth generation born in Godric’s Hollow or any of that. The only reason I became interested in Photography at all was because—’

Harry stopped talking. The door to the classroom opened and in walked the reason. A girl, a very familiar girl from his past, with long curly hair and brown eyes stopped on the threshold and spotted Professor Lupin.

‘Hello,’ she said, her eyes were only fixed on the teacher, she didn’t notice Harry, ‘so sorry to interrupt, but is this _Photography_? Are you Professor Remus Lupin?’

‘Yes, please, come in,’ Professor Lupin said getting to his feet, ‘you must be Miss—?’

‘Granger,’ she said, stepping in over the threshold and looking around the room, ‘Hermione Granger.’

Eventually, Hermione spotted Harry standing at the back of the classroom. He could see that it took her a few second to recognise the familiar face before her, as her eyebrows shot up into her curly hair, her mouth opened slightly, perhaps even apprehensively, and after a moment her eyes widened as she came to realise who the man standing across from her really was.


End file.
